Deflation

When I walk into an English class, the board is covered with complex grammatical formulas: subjects + verbs + adjectives + modifiers + massive lists of vocab + tense instructions.

If I think long and hard, I can usually figure out what it all means. But it takes quite a goodly bit of effort.

While I erase the board, I usually console myself with the thought that I can enunciate plurals, possessives, and don't screech to a halt at the phonemes on either end of my name. And I don't blink when I rattle off things like, "Take out your notebook," or "Write your name."

Heh.

What worked with today's classes was walking to the back, kneeling down at the biggest, densest guy's desk, tugging on his shirt and saying, "What is your name?" He invariably looked relieved when I wrote his name and nickname, and it snowballed. In every class. At least twenty minutes of, "What is your name? What is your nickname? Okay, write this. No, write this. This is your name, written in English. Understand?"

Umm. Okay.

See, my boss hinted that my next test needs to be a fill-in-the-blank test.

1: who has time to grade just under a thousand such tests?

2: who wants to create a test that will look good officially but allow all students to pass?

3: how does one teach to such a test without falling into prohibitions against such acts?

4: How does a test make both the student who can't write his name and the student who's fluent as a smartass look equally successful?

And I have to produce these results in two weeks, after one class meeting?

Umm. Okay.